


Chunky Monkey feat. Fudge Brownie

by huangjinguo



Series: It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Flirting, Hip hop au, M/M, Rockstar AU, Smut, Smut and Fluff, blowjob, sorry I didn't make the rules, they also text a lot, yifan being a dork like always, yixing being a little cum slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huangjinguo/pseuds/huangjinguo
Summary: Prequel to The Mighty Fall. || Yifan didn't think that attending a party of a friend would get him a boyfriend, but life has always worked in strange ways for him.





	Chunky Monkey feat. Fudge Brownie

**Author's Note:**

> IDK I tried to be cool and added some fake iMessages? Because I clearly don't have a life lol.
> 
> Not beta'd, also not rlly edited, forgive my mistakes, maybe I'll upload a corrected version later but oh well. Also most of this was written in the middle of the night so my brain may not have functioned very well.
> 
> Oh yeah I also have no idea if that Ellen show is being taped in the morning or not, but idc.
> 
> Let me know if you'd maybe be up for a sequel.
> 
> Additions bc not everyone reads Chinese (as in, I'm an asshole for forgetting that, sorry):
> 
> 你好帅哥 - Hello handsome  
> 男朋友 - Boyfriend

***

“Why the fuck am I doing this,” he is hissing under his breath as he steps out of the elevator and into the loft of his friend.

The buzzing of the party overwhelms him for a second and Kris Wu needs to take a deep breath to encourage himself for the next few hours. He greets some friends, producers, actors, other musicians that he acts he’s friendly with but in fact, hates them a lot. A girl with a deep collar and a short skirt offers him a glass of champagne on a tray which he takes and downs with a few gulps. He’ll need a lot of alcohol to get through this.

“Kris my boy!” 

One of his newer acquaintances, a young man in his early twenties with great ambitions to become a rap star, greets him with a big smile. 

“Yeaaah, hi bro!” Yifan says and greets him with a handshake and a shoulder bump - he’s completely forgotten his name, but that brat won’t stop pestering him any given chance with his mixtape.

“Yo, I got hooked up with some good stuff, do you want some too?”

The sheepish grin on the other’s face tells the rapper that he’s talking about drugs, and Yifan returns the smile, but says:

“Nah, thanks man. I’m good today.”

He’s been kind of moody lately, and if he’s learned one thing the hard way, it’s to never smoke or take any stuff in a bad mood. It won’t end well and Yifan can’t have a total breakdown now with his EP in the making and not coming through at all. He’s in a creative hole, and his manager and producers keep asking him about demos that he can’t hand in. His label gets nervous and demands _anything_ , but Yifan refuses to give them some half assed shit. Unfortunately, he’s not in the position yet to just not give a fuck and postpone the release date to his liking. It would need him another multi-million selling record and a little more of consolidating his position and influence in the industry to get there.

He only said yes to his friend’s invitation to this party because he felt like he needed to do something else. See something else. Talk to someone else. All he’s been having in the last few weeks have been his studio walls, semi-good rhymes on pieces of paper that got thrown into the trash, and his producer that couldn’t give him any better input. Getting out is probably needed, and may even boost his creativity.

The other musician shrugs his shoulders and leaves him standing, so Yifan hovers over to the bar and decides to get another drink. Maybe that will loosen him up and he’ll actually want to engage in one of those horribly shallow conversations about money and business around him.

That’s when he sees him. A slim figure at the bar counter, swirling the ice cubes in his drink with a black straw. He’s wearing ripped jeans and a plain white shirt, totally unfit for a social gathering like this. He doesn’t belong here, and he’s showing that to the rest of the room. Yifan hasn’t been aware that Lay would be invited too.

Saying that he knows him would be a lie. He’s seen Set by Default’s videos, he’s heard their songs on the radio, he’s seen tweets appearing on the timeline of his private Twitter account about the band and their front singer. But that’s about it. The music Lay produces is not what Yifan usually listens to, even though he has to admit that the lyrics are great and the musicians of the band are skilled as fuck. 

Yifan doesn’t know much about the singer, only the essentials. He’s Chinese, just like him, goes by the real name of Zhang Yixing and has grown up in two different cultures. He’s tried to find his place in the world, and wound up with a rock band in the process, which is a very similar reason to why Yifan started out with rap music. Yixing started his first band at the age of fifteen with his best friend Josh and later founded Set by Default with him. Most of the lyrics are written by him, and even though he is the front singer, he doesn’t like all the attention on him too much. When he smiles, there’s a dent in his cheeks showing that deepens depending on how well-fed he is - because that’s what fans and tabloid magazines seem to worry the most about. There have been rumours about eating disorders and depression going around, which Yixing has turned down so far.

Well shit. Yifan might’ve googled him once or twice, because he thinks Yixing is a real good looking guy. He may or may have not imagined how it would look like if the guy sucked him off, because, apart from being all hip hop and gangsta, Yifan is also really gay. But nobody in the industry is allowed to know that.

Suppressing a fanboy moment, Yifan decides to finally get to know the rock singer better and beyond what the internet has to offer. So he plops down on the barstool next to Yixing, looks at his glass and says to the bartender:

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

Lay looks up and says, without hesitating for a second:

“It’s tonic water.”

“Well…” Yifan says, and turns back to the man preparing the drink, “Then add some gin to my tonic water please.”

The bartender chuckles and nods. 

“You don’t drink alcohol?”

“No, I’m a lightweight. One beer and I’m starting to dance on the table,” the rock singer says truthfully and Yifan lifts one corner of his mouth in response. “I know, I’m confirming the classic Asian cliché.”

“That’s okay. I can drink for you.”

“Knock yourself out.”

The Gin Tonic gets put in front of Yifan on a napkin and he raises his glass with a raised eyebrow to the other. Lay sighs and they clink glasses before taking a sip. Yifan doesn’t like gin too much, it’s too bitter for his liking. But he tries to play it cool and puts on a poker face as he says:

“That’s kind of weird, you know. I know you but I don’t _know_ you, so I don’t know how I should introduce myself.”

“That’s alright. It’s always like that in the industry,” Lay answers and flashes an amused smile, “Call me Yixing.”

“I guess you can call me Yifan then.”

So there’s that. Within a span of barely five minutes, they’ve moved past their stage names to their real names.

“I’ve never seen you around here, Yixing.”

“I usually don’t attend these parties. But the host is a friend of mine and I’ve dodged his previous invitations too often already. Turning him down once again would’ve been rude,” Yixing explains and takes another sip. “You do this probably more often than I do. I don’t know if there’s a protocol for these get-togethers. I just hope that everybody will be drunk enough soon to not notice me slipping out.”

“There is no protocol. People are just getting drunk and high and sometimes, you get hooked up with another producer, or a girl.”

Yifan nods into the direction of a few girls who roam around in the room and try to gain the attention of other people. It’s obvious they’re hookers.

“Thanks, I’ll pass on that.”

“Oh right, you don’t swing that way. But I’m sure there are also some guys around who would gladly suck your dick if you wanted them to.”

Actually, he is 100% sure. He’s met them before. He’s picked them up and brought them into a hotel room - they’re costly, but discreet. Yifan is used to be generating scandals that light the internet on fire, but a gay scandal is strictly prohibited by his manager. It’s kind of pathetic, in Yifan’s opinion. He can call a female journalist a ‘whore’ in one of his live streams, his manager won’t make a big fuss if he’s caught snorting some cocaine, but god forbid someone will start talking about him liking dick. End of the world. The Apocalypse. Lucifer will ascend from hell and go on a purge to cleanse the world from humanity.

Or something like that.

Unfortunately, he’s also not in the position yet to come out and tell the world what’s going on. He’d need an even more consolidated position and influence in the industry to survive that truth bomb without his career as a hip hop artist receiving too much damage. The industry is still widely homophobic, even if it’s gotten better over the time. Yifan knows at least five of his ‘friends’ in the scene who’d cut ties with him immediately. They’re way too helpful to his cause right now. So one step at a time. Maybe in a few years.

“Ummm… thanks, but I am seeing someone right now, so…”

“I see,” Yifan says, and feels a sting in his chest.

He’s not really trying to hit on Yixing (even though getting Yixing into bed might not be the worst scenario resulting from this whole ordeal), but he does feel envious about how open Yixing is allowed to be about his sexuality. The rockstar seems to sense something, but it looks like he’s only suspecting right now, so he tries to change the subject:

“So, I’ve heard you’re working on an EP? How’s that going for you?”

“Wow, are you actually following along with my schedule?”

Yixing snorts.

“I’m a socially awkward guy, I spent most of my time on Twitter so I don’t have to talk to people… you just pick up some things.”

Yifan giggles when he hears that, then he says:

“Well. I’m trying, but nothing’s working right now.”

“Ugh, yeah, relatable,” Yixing says and rolls his eyes, “I’m glad we’re touring right now. I mean, I like creating new stuff, but why on earth can’t my label just leave me alone and stop pestering me about deadlines?”

“God! Me too! I don’t deal well with stress, so when there’s someone telling me ‘You have to hand that shit in on this day’ my mind goes on vacation!”

“It’s truly the worst,” Yixing nods, “It sucks all the creativity out of me. That’s really the part about my job I hate the most. Right after giving interviews.”

That moment makes them click. The next sentence spurts out of Yifan’s mouth in Chinese, and after stumbling over the first sentences, they get back into the language easily. They start sassing producers and managers in LA both of them know, find out they dislike the same fake people, and realise that they share a few more similarities. Yifan is delighted about that, and thinks that going to this party hasn’t been the worst decision.

When it’s almost one in the morning, Yixing shoots up from his seat.

“Shit!” He exclaims, “I really need to get home!”

“You got a curfew?” Yifan asks jokingly, and feels a little embarrassed that he starts slurring his words - he’s on his fourth drink.

“No, I don’t, but I need to catch a flight tomorrow, and I still haven’t packed anything.”

The rapper frowns and tilts his head, which causes Yixing to say:

“We’re headed for Brasil tomorrow. South America tour.”

“Ooooooh!” Yifan’s never had a gig in South America, so he adds, “You gotta send me some pictures, mate.”

Yixing pauses for a moment, and Yifan hopes he’s not overstepping a line, because his statement sounds like a lame attempt to get Yixing’s number. It probably _is_ a lame attempt, but he’d never admit that. The rapper gets startled when the other one extends his hand and says:

“Well then, hand me your phone.”

“Like… for real?”

“Yeah?”

Yifan clumsily fumbles out his iPhone and watches as Yixing types in his number and saves it to YIfan’s contacts. While he gets up from his seat, he puts the phone next to its owner, he says:  
“Call me if you want to. I’ll see you around!”

Then, he takes his leave, not even bothering to look for his friend to bid him goodbye. Yifan is left with half of his longdrink, and after getting over the first initial shock, he grabs his phone and checks the new contact. 

_Zhang Yixing (why do you not have a Chinese keyboard, you lame ass)_  
_213-220-7432_

***

An initial rocky start in their texting is soon forgotten the more often they actually talk to each other. And Yifan can’t help himself but to drop subtle (in his opinion) pick up lines. Yifan knows Yixing is seeing somebody, so he disguises his flirting as banter - he also doesn’t really know if Yixing’s picked up on his behaviour. But in between some pictures of beaches, food, and sunsets, Yixing also slips in some cute bare faced selfies, which makes Yifan’s heart do several somersaults. It’s a pity that he’s not single. And Yifan won’t try to make a serious move on him, because he needs to respect that fact. Yixing himself doesn’t really give in to the flirting, and dodges his attempts with sarcastic and witty comebacks. It’s okay. Yifan can arrange himself with that, because he also feels that Yixing genuinely likes him, despite being a stupid prick over iMessage. If he can’t have him as his boyfriend, he maybe can call him his friend, and that’s cool too. At least, for the time being.

One night, when Yixing and the band have just finished their show in Rio, Yifan receives _a call from Yixing_. He’s confused, but picks up nonetheless.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound casual.

“Hey!” Yixing purrs into the phone, “Sorry, I just felt like calling.”

“Nah, it’s good,” Yifan retorts and rolls over on his bed, “Is something up?”

“I have a question, to be honest.”

“Oh.”

“But I don’t know how to address it properly, you know. It’s kind of a personal thing.”

“Ummm…”Yifan doesn’t know what to say and feels his guts tightening. He sits up straight on the mattress and stares at his toes.

“You can always choose not to answer, and we can just pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Okay…” Yifan says after a few moments of thinking.

His heart beats hard against his ribcage, but he tries to play it down.

“Cool. So,” Yixing starts hesitantly, “It’s just that I have the feeling that you might be… gay. I don’t know. It’s just… you’re flirting way too heavily with me for this to be banter.”

Yifan feels like somebody’s just hit him with a shovel. When he can’t speak for a few moments, Yixing adds:

“Again, you don’t need to answer that… and sorry if I made things awkward, but… I’m a nosy bitch.”

“… I… umm… well…”

Nobody knows. Nobody except for his manager. Nobody is ought to know. He’s not even told his mother about this yet, and in storms Zhang Yixing, pinning him against a wall in a rather metaphorical sense. He’s too shocked to react, and then, a very soft voice in his brain asks ‘So what if he knows? Is it really _that_ bad?’

Yixing doesn’t press him to answer and stays silent at the other end of the line, then Yifan takes a deep breath and says:

“Well… shit… I guess I got busted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry I kinda forced you to admit to that,” Yixing says, “I guess you’re not outed then.”

“Nah. Not really.”

Yixing heaves a sigh.

“It’s because of your career, right?”

“Yeah. My manager told me that being gay doesn’t go well in the industry… so… yeah. My contract has this very special section where I promise to not let anyone know.”

“Is that even _allowed_?!” Yixing spurts into his phone. “That’s horrible! I thought this is the 21st century!”

“I didn’t even think about that when I signed, to be honest,” Yifan says. “It’s not really been an issue so far.”

“Yifan… that’s… wow. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“But… no, nobody deserves this.”

Yixing’s genuine tone makes Yifan’s heart clench. He’s so mindful. So caring. So loving.

Fuck, he might as well just fall for him right away, even though he’s probably going to call his fucking boyfriend after they hang up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Hot white jealousy stings in his chest when he only thinks about it. That’s just his luck. He’s having quite a good shot at a really great guy, but that guy belongs to someone else.

“Hmmmmm,” Yifan manages to grunt into the phone.

“Hey, if you need anything, you know…”

“Ugh, Yixing, stop it!” Yifan cries out and clears the lump in his throat, “Otherwise you’re making me fall in love with you! Your boyfriend would kill me!”

“I just think it’s unfair how you’re treated. It’s not your fault. You deserve better.”

“Yesterday you told me that I deserve a good whooping,” Yifan jokes, trying to change the topic.

“Well, you still do, but that’s another story.”

Yifan wants to say something, but then he hears how someone else enters the room Yixing is in. He doesn’t quite understand what the other person is saying, but judging from the sound of the voice, it’s Josh, Yixing’s bandmate and friend.

“Okay, yeah…” Yixing says, then turns his phone back to his mouth, “Listen, boy, I need to go now. If you need anything, hit me up.”

“Thanks mate. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime. Really.”

When they hang up, Yifan slumps to the side and screams into his pillow. 

So his secret is out now. If Yixing ever decided to let the world know, his career would be at Yixing’s mercy. He won’t though, Yifan reckons, because the other one isn’t an asshole. He probably knows the struggle himself, better than anyone else Yifan’s surrounded with. It still stresses him out, though, because his body just naturally responds to this. He’s kept the fact about being gay to himself, not daring to think too much about it. This was, after telling his manager, sort of the first time the issue has ever been addressed.

Between the worry making his stomach turn though, he also feels relief. He feels relieved that it was Yixing asking him, and not an annoying reporter shoving their mic into his face. That it’s Yixing who offered him help. He probably would’ve denied everything if it had been someone else, but well, he trusts Yixing enough, and he’s comfortable around him, so he doesn’t even feel that bad about the fact that the singer’s busted him quite bluntly. It’s good. It’s okay.

***

  
  
  


Yifan knows he shouldn’t be happy about that. Like, a breakup is a serious thing. He shouldn’t see his personal gain in that.

But god damn.

Yixing is single, for fuck’s sake! He wants to plaster it across town, post it to Social Media, let the world know: Zhang Yixing a.k.a. Lay is single, and Wu Yifan a.k.a. Kris Wu will do anything to be with him! He won’t be holding back anymore. There’s no need to. If that asshole of an ex-boyfriend couldn’t appreciate what he had, Yifan will make sure to do so!

He can’t though. So instead of starting an Instagram live and announce that to the world, he takes a picture of the two B&J containers before he pops them into his freezer. After deciding on a few filters to make that basic picture look a little more artsy, he uploads it to his Instagram profile, captioning it with:

MAD COMBO!!!!

He’s absolutely whipped, and it scares him a little that he acts like a bubbly teenager, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care.

***

So approximately two hours later, Yixing sits next to Yifan on his couch, spooning out his ice cream directly from the container while Yifan’s TV shows the nth Modern Family episode. Even though Yixing claimed to look like shit, Yifan thinks that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. The way his wavy hair falls into his face while he keeps his eyes focused on the TV, his flawless skin, and god damn, those lips. Those plump lips that occasionally take in a spoonful of ice cream. The way they curl up when he swallows, and how his tongue casually sweeps over them to get them clean from the sweet treat. To fucking die for.

“Seriously though, I might throw up if I have any more,” Yixing suddenly whines after he’s taken another spoon with some extra fudge junks and sinks back into the sofa.

Yifan chuckles and takes the container out of his hands to put it back into the freezer.

“You’ve almost killed the whole tub. Where does that stuff go with you?” The taller one asks as he shuffles into the kitchen, followed by Yixing’s laughter.

When he comes back, the other answers him with a shrug.

“Guess my metabolism works really fast.”

“That’s really something I’m jealous of.”

He plops down again next to Yixing, supporting his head with one arm. Yixing looks up to him with a raised eyebrow, then he examines him from head to toe.

“No offence but you’re also on the lankier side of the spectrum.”

“Yeah, but I need to watch my diet,” Yifan answers.

“What’s your favourite food?”

Yifan is surprised at the question, but then he sees how Yixing put his head back onto the backrest of the couch, looking up to him with a mild smile on his lips, and Yifan feels himself turn into a puddle of gooey feelings.

“Probably pizza. With a cheese crust.”

Yixing giggles upon hearing that.

“You do strike me like a cheese crust kinda guy…”

“You’re not really doing the whole cheese thing, I reckon?”

Yixing pouts and looks overly cute while doing so. Yifan needs to suppress a whimper.

“No, I try to avoid dairy. Or I go for lactose free or vegan options. But then again, I usually cook at home and try to avoid fast food and take out, so…”

“Oooh, so you’re a little chef!”

Yixing scoots a little closer and touches Yifan’s thighs with his knee. It’s the first real body contact they share and the rapper feels a hot sensation shooting through his body and into his stomach. Shit he’s whipped. Yixing could probably just dry hump him and he’d cum really hard in his pants. He scolds himself for that thought - he didn’t invite Yixing over for a quick fuck. He wants to be more than that.

“Well, Josh says that I make the best Bolognese in the world, so…”

“Great, now I’m craving pasta… can you please not!”

The smaller one laughs at the comment, but then gets a little closer again, one leg placed over Yifan’s lap whose muscles stiffen. Oh boy. That is not very helpful.

“Well… I am kinda craving something else right now,” Yixing breathes and Yifan feels how cold sweat starts to break out on his forehead.

 _This fucker is making me lose my entire cool_ , he thinks and wrecks his brain for a good comeback.

“I guess that craving has nothing to do with food.”

“Clever boy.”

When he leans in and presses his lips onto Yifan’s, the taller’s body starts trembling and he immediately melts into the touch. Without any resistance coming from him, Yixing slips onto his lap and takes over the lead of their kiss, working his tongue into Yifan’s mouth. Yifan’s brain shuts down, and he can’t do anything but to let Yixing. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so they start wandering over the other’s thighs. 

“Umm, Yixing.”

Yifan manages to unlock their lips, which has taken a lot of his willpower, and he looks up to him.

“Yes?”

“It’s just… you know, even though I said all those things already, it’s not like I invited you over just to fuck… like… I mean…”

“Fuck, you’re so _cute_!” Yixing squeals and crashes his lips on Yifan’s cheek, “S’ okay though. I want this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

To prove it, Yixing’s hand slips into Yifan’s sweatpants (one of his newer ones though, to not come off as a complete social misfit) and gently rubs the bulge underneath the cloth of his boxer briefs. 

“Hnnngggh, well then…” Yifan stammers, trying to act cool, but failing horribly while doing so.

Yixing grins and slips off Yifan’s lap, kneeling down between his legs. He pushes the other’s shirt up to reveal his skin and places a few kisses on the exposed parts, while the other hand caresses Yifan’s thighs in very slow movements. It’s like he’s taking his time and Yifan feels him smiling against his skin every time he lets out a low and satisfied huff. The rapper tries to think of an encounter with a man where he has ever been touched like that. But every time he got one of those callboys into his hotel room, it was basically the same professional fucking over and over again. They’d ask him what he wanted, and they let him do it. Then Yifan would pay them and they’d take off, never to be seen again.

“You need to know something though,” Yixing suddenly says as he’s done kissing Yifan’s stomach and proceeds to fumble at the waistband of Yifan’s sweatpants.

“Y…yes?”

“I’m kind of a cum slut.”

Yifan chokes on his own saliva. That statement just _won’t fit_ to the image Yixing usually shows in public. And Yifan swallows heavily again, because, oh boy, that’s absolutely hot. He looks down at Yixing who just shows a cocky grin, seemingly enjoying Yifan losing his composure.

“How… what do… you… m…mean?”

“You’ll see. Relax.”

That being said, Yixing pulls the other’s pants down to Yifan’s ankles, along with his underwear, laying bare his swelling cock. Yixing won’t give it too much attention yet though. Instead, he traces Yifan’s inner thighs with his mouth, sucking at the sensitive skin every now and then and buries his teeth in the flesh gently, which makes the other twitch.

“Not good?” Yixing asks when he’s given Yifan a little love bite on his left thigh and Yifan couldn’t hold back the whimper that’s been sitting in the back of his throat ever since he’s lost his pants.

“No. Very good… actually.”

Yixing smiles, and looks so _innocent_ with his deep dimple in his cheek, and it throws Yifan off. Like it’s been said already, he had imagined how it would be if that guy spoiled him with his mouth, but he didn’t think that it would be that nice, and… fuck, Yixing hasn’t even started yet.

As if having read his thoughts, Yixing finally turns his attention to the semi Yifan’s sporting. He begins with one hand wrapped around the base and starts moving it in a slow rhythm, twisting his wrist which coaxes another whimper out of Yifan. His hand is warm and smooth and just feels so _amazing_ around his dick, YIfan needs to bury his hands in one of the pillows of the couch. When Yixing’s brought him into full erection, he’s already leaking precum, and when Yixing sees that, his eyes light up and he brings his head down to lick over the slit and get a first taste of him.

“Huh! Yi…xing…”

Yixing doesn’t react to Yifan’s mewl and dips his tongue over the head again, twirling it around while his hand is still wrapped around the base. And then, he just _goes down_. Those plump lips of his seal tightly around Yifan’s hard cock, going down inch by inch to get used to him. Yifan lets out a low grunt and curls his toes as Yixing starts with slow bopping movements of his head. He’s rather sloppy, taking him all in, but releasing his cock right again to lick up and down and coat him with a good amount of saliva, and the slurping sound is so fucking lewd, Yifan feels his orgasm build up already.

“Fuuuck…!”

The pillow isn’t enough anymore, so he tangles his hands in Yixing’s soft hair and pushes him down on his dick again. Yixing doesn’t flinch. He obeys, and hollows out his cheeks while he sucks on him again. His hand has long let go of him and is now, along with the other hand, pushing Yifan’s legs apart for better access.

“I’m gonna…”

He really wanted to last longer, not because his ego might get a scratch from coming within barely ten minutes, but because he wanted to enjoy this longer, but fuck no, this is too good. Yixing is too good. It’s too much, his tongue, his lips, his teeth grazing over his cock, and his voice vibrating against it when he lets out a moan himself, it’s just—

When Yifan finally gets off, Yixing pulls his head back, milking Yifan through his orgasm with his hand. When Yifan looks down, he sees his cum spurting out, running over Yixing’s hand. He also notices Yixing biting his bottom lip before he leans in again to catch the white fluid, licking it off Yifan’s dick that is still twitching and coating his lips with it before he swallows down as if he’s slurping on a very tasty milkshake. When Yifan’s done and sinks back into the couch, Yixing looks up to him. There’s still cum on his lips, fuck, even on the tip of his nose, and wow, shit, nobody’s ever looked so endearing to Yifan than he does in this very moment.

“You missed some,” Yifan informs between some flat breathes.

Yixing smirks while he licks his hand clean, then he stands up. A look at the prominent bulge in his own pants tells Yifan that he’s pretty hot and bothered too, so that’s kind of comforting. Yixing won’t sit back down on his lap though, and only leans close to Yifan’s face. One knee gets worked in between his legs, and Yifan winces at the contact. Sensitive.

“Where? Get it off me, then.”

Yifan melts. He throws his arms around Yixing to bring him close, and then starts kissing and sucking at his lips, getting a taste of himself while he licks the last remaining trails of his orgasm away. _God. Never make this stop, please._

“Should we move this to the bedroom though?” Yixing suddenly asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea.”

Yixing stands up straight and follows Yifan (after he’s pulled up his pants again) to his bedroom. He’s still super weak in the knees and is glad that Yixing pushes him right onto the bed before he straddles his lap again. Somewhere in between hot kisses, both of them lose their shirts and pants and Yifan lays Yixing down into his sheets, grabbing lube and a condom out of the drawer next to his bed which he carelessly throws next to them.

Yixing hasn’t really gotten a tan in South America, but there’s a faint tan line along his legs and his arms from his shorts and shirts which Yifan wouldn’t probably have noticed if he hadn’t taken his time kissing almost every inch of Yixing’s body. He could spend hours doing just that, but Yixing gets impatient and grunts in a rather displeased way when Yifan goes down on his stomach for a third time, but hasn’t even come near his dick or his ass.

“Yifan!” He groans and blindly searches for the lube.

He tosses it at him, then pulls off his boxer and throws it onto the floor. Yifan’s eyes fall on Yixing’s throbbing dick and he swallows thickly.

“Please,” Yixing breathes and spreads his legs for him.

It doesn’t need any further words, so Yifan coats his fingers quickly before he presses a first finger against the hole that needs to be stretched and prepared so badly for the dick between his legs that’s starting to swell again. When he pushes his index finger in, Yixing clenches, but he lets out an encouraging moan. He’s tight. And warm. And oh god, he enjoys this so much. Yifan’s body vibrates in desire and he adds a second finger, which makes Yixing wince.

“Sorry.”

“No. Don’t. Good pain. I like that,” Yixing huffs and starts rolling his hips.

He still pumps at his own dick though to distract himself from the painful stretch, and Yifan isn’t too sure if he can go on. He stops his doing for a second, and Yixing’s eyes fling open.

“Go on. Fuck. Yifan. Please!”

“Just checking in…”

“I want your dick inside of me,” Yixing mewls and wiggles his hips, “But right now, I don’t see that happen, _please_ , don’t tease me like that!”

“Needy.” Is Yifan’s verdict, but pushes a third digit into Yixing who gasps and arches his back.

“So much!” Yixing says, and Yifan doesn’t know if this is a reply to his comment or a statement to the overall situation.

He decides to not get to the bottom of it and keeps finger fucking Yixing, pushing in in shorter and more erratic movements. The way Yixing’s walls clench around his digits is absolutely amazing and Yifan groans when he thinks about how this will feel around his dick.

Eventually, Yixing gets used to the stretch, moaning with every thrust into him, and Yifan decides that this has been enough. As fast as possible, he pulls a condom over his pounding cock, putting another coat of lube over it, just to make sure, and positions himself between Yixing’s legs. Yixing spreads them a little further apart, and nods briefly to indicate he’s ready.

So Yifan pushes in slowly, and Yixing fills the room with a high pitched scream, throwing his head back into the pillow. Yifan wants to stop again, hesitates for a moment, but Yixing slaps his hand on Yifan’s butt and yells:

“Keep! Going! Please! God! _Fuck me_!”

Yixing seems to be a guy on the rougher side of the spectrum. When that thought hits him, Yifan keeps going in a steady push, until he’s buried completely. Yixing has his eyes closed, and whimpers at the pain, yet his hands still rest on Yifan’s hips to keep him close. 

“Do me!”  
The shallow and experimental rocking of his hips soon turn into full thrusts. Pulling out, pushing right back in, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with their moans. Every thrusts coaxes a pleasured cry out of Yixing who pulls at his own hair as Yifan’s dick brushes against his walls and his prostate, giving him everything he wants in that moment.

“Yesyesyesyes…!”

Yifan goes faster and Yixing crashes his hips against him for more friction and they soon find a rhythm that gets both of them off - Yifan fucking Yixing, and Yixing fucking himself on Yifan, it’s just _amazing_. 

Yixing’s words of praise soon vanish and he’s only able to let out mewling noises as Yifan keeps rutting into him and his whole body gets shaken up. He rolls his eyes up and clenches his hole one last time around Yifan’s cock, and with a last rather violent thrust, his lips part into a long scream and he cums. So hard, he’s staining his stomach and his chest, even his neck, and he keeps jerking through his climax along with Yifan who’s still going. The taller one almost drools from the sight, from this beautiful man stained with cum, crying and moaning and begging him to not stop. _I did that._

That’s it. That’s what makes him cum himself, and he pushes into Yixing, freezing as he shoots his load into the condom. For a second, he blacks out from the blissful feeling and his arms that have kept him over Yixing give in. He crashes into the other one, and doesn’t even care that one half of his face lands in Yixing’s cum on the other’s chest. Yixing throws his arms around him, still moaning and panting, rolling his hips against him to ride him off his high.

“Shit. Fuck. That was brutal.”

Yifan feels the laugh in Yixing’s chest as he says that. He tries to sit up again, and Yixing only lets him go reluctantly. Seems that, even though he likes it rather rough, he’s also a cuddler. The older one looks down on him and notices that he has smeared the entire trail of cum over Yixing’s body, and he’s sure he’s full of that stuff too now. 

“I really don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cum this hard as you just did.”

Yixing laughs again. 

“Like I said. Cum slut,” he explains then and sits up. 

Yifan is still inside of Yixing, and probably won’t pull out until he’s grown limp. Yixing doesn’t seem to mind and kisses him softly on the lips, which is so soothing after the roughness both of them just went through.

“You know what also _really_ gets me off?” He then asks in between a few little pecks.

“Hmm?”

“When they cum inside of me, like… when I feel their cum shooting up my ass. That throws me off instantly after. Biggest turn-on, to be honest.”

“Fuck, Zhang Yixing, stop talking like that or I’m getting hard again, I’m overly sensitive already!” Yifan whines.

No more. Please. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. But for today, Yifan is done. 

“I’m just saying… for future references.”

The smaller winks at him and Yifan lets out a scoff before he shuts him up with another kiss.

“Sleep,” Yixing then says, “I’m beat.”

Yifan nods and pulls out of him - Yixing whines, not really happy about that fact, but Yifan really needs to get rid of the condom… and get some tissues to get a hold of this fucking mess on their bodies. When he’s cleaned them up, Yixing snuggles into him and presses a sloppy kiss on his shoulder.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

Yifan hates himself. Knowing that Yixing would come over, he could’ve at least thought ahead and get some stuff for breakfast. But no. All he has is Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, a gallon of milk and dry cereals. And coffee. And because ice cream can hardly be a decent breakfast, and milk will probably kill Yixing’s stomach, and cereal can’t be eaten without milk, he’s doomed.

With a grunt, he decides to prepare some coffee and when he comes back into the bedroom with nothing but some sweatpants on, Yixing is just about to wake up. 

His hair is ruffled from the sex, and in the light of day, Yifan sees just how many hickeys he’s left on the other’s body. He’s created a very prominent one right on his neck. Yifan stops for a moment to marvel at the sight of Yixing lounging around and stretching his limbs in his messy sheets. He could definitely get used to that.

“What time is it?” Yixing asks and the fatigue in his voice is still swaying along.

“Ten am I think,” Yifan says and holds up the two mugs, “Umm… that’s kind of embarrassing, but I don’t really have anything for breakfast… except for ice cream and milk.”

“Coffee is good.”

“I mean, I could also hop over to the Starbucks around the corner, but then again, I don’t know what you order there so…”

“Relax,” Yixing chuckles, “I don’t go to Starbucks.”

With that, he takes one of the mugs and sips on the beverage.

“This is enough.”

“Really? I mean, I could also order something in, if you’re hungry, I just…”

“Yifan!”

Yixing rolls his eyes, then puts the mug down onto the drawer. Afterwards, he grabs Yifan’s hand and pulls him onto the mattress. Yifan hardly manages to put the mug down next to Yixing’s, and spills a little over the wood of the furniture. Yixing doesn’t notice though and throws his arms around Yifan.

“You don’t really have people over that often, right?”

Yifan presses his lips together, then he decides to just fuck it. If Yixing is ever going to get serious with him, which he hopes, he might as well just tell him the truth right away.

“No. I usually meet up with… people… in hotel rooms. And then they leave right away.”

“Are you talking about callboys?”

“Hmm.”

Yixing stays silent as the message sinks in, then he snuggles into the other a little more, pressing his delicate body against Yifan’s. Yifan holds on to Yixing’s arm and circulates his thumbs across the skin.

“You won’t need them anymore.”

It takes Yifan a few beats to understand.

“Wait. Does that mean…?”

“Wow, you’re so slow, even a sloth would be faster than you.”

Yixing receives a smack against his arm for that comment, but he keeps giggling and he sinks back into the sheets. His fingers start wandering about Yifan’s thigh, then he says:

“Well. I don’t know about you, but I had to live a very sad life in the past few weeks… contrary to popular fanfiction, Josh and I do not suck each other off, and that tour was rather long, so I’m still kinda horny…”

“I… you…”

Yifan can’t help but to shake his head in disbelief, but he still dives down to press his weight onto Yixing. Right when they share a few first lazy kisses, Yixing’s phone goes off in the pocket of his jeans that he’s thrown onto the floor last night.

“Shit, that’s Josh’s ringtone…” Yixing curses against Yifan’s lips, so Yifan rolls off him.

The singer keeps cursing while he grabs the pair of pants and fumbles his phone out to answer.

“Yes? … I’m… at a friend’s house, I crashed there, why? … I… Huh… What?!”

Yixing shoots up into a seating position with eyes flung open in horror.

“Shiiiit, I totally forgot! Fuck! Fuck! Yes… sorry, yeah, I’m on my way! Just… yeah! Yes! I’m coming! Bye!”

With a frustrated grunt, he hangs up and rubs his face.

“What happened?”

“I forgot that we’re supposed to film for the Ellen Degeneres Show today!” Yixing answers in a whiny tone and he rolls off the bed to put on his clothes, “And filming starts in thirty minutes…!”

“Oh. Do you… do you want me to drive you there?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea? You and me? Together? In public?”

“Oh. Wait. Yeah.”

Shit. Yixing still smiles though and huddles over to the drawer to take a few gulps of his coffee after he’s clothed. When he puts the mug down again, he leans over to Yifan to give him a kiss.

“I’ll haul a taxi. I’ll text you.”

With that, he disappears out of the room, and shortly after, Yifan hears the click of the front door’s lock. Only then, he falls back into the sheets, with a creepy wide smile plastered on his face.

Time to change Yixing’s contact name.

  



End file.
